


captured in amber (t. yuuji)

by memento_amare



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, Missions, Spy!AU, Undercover Missions, passing mention of daichi and tsukki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memento_amare/pseuds/memento_amare
Summary: you're less than happy to work with yuuji tonight, not only because he's annoying, but because you're afraid, and guilty.(or, after five years, some things seem to have never changed.)
Relationships: Terushima Yuuji/Reader
Kudos: 21





	captured in amber (t. yuuji)

the function is exactly what a rich conglomerate would conjure up: each guest’s net worth is probably more money you would ever acquire, more than what any person should have in the first place. if it were up to you, you’d wipe all their bank accounts clean. you swirl the glass of champagne delicately, masking your disdain at even being in this party by smiling and nodding politely at those who look your way. 

though, that’s one of the reasons why you’re here, right?

you smooth any imaginary wrinkles on your dress. as far as these go, this one is probably one of your favorites from azumane (though like everything else in the room, more than twice your net worth). it’s not overly constricting yet somehow flattering, and though the thigh slit isn’t your favorite thing, it does help for easy access to your gun. its style right in the middle between eye-catching and drab (wonderful, you didn’t want to stand out as either in this party). 

your eyes scan the room, locking on a head of blond hair. they eventually land on a man seated on the couch, legs and arms spread like he hasn’t a care in the world. around his figure there are the ladies whom he managed to swoon to his side, all of them giggling and batting their glittered eyelashes. he drinks in the attention, feeds on it, wrapping the ladies under his trap. he knows exactly how alluring he is. and you hate it. 

you remain a distance of ten meters from where he is, blending among the throng of people, yet when you cast a sideways glance, his eyes are already on you.

you viciously ignore the familiar thrill shoots up your spine, tearing your eyes away from him, lip curling in distaste. as you move past the doors to one of the house’s many hallways, the conversations behind you dulling into a distant muffle. the package you need is on the top floor, and you need you partner to haul their ass before you decide to fly solo.

you pause at the foot of the stairs, and you sense the presence mirror your movements. “you know… for a spy you’re not very good at not drawing attention.” 

“really, sweetheart? i _blend in with the people._ ” 

“sure, terushima. whatever helps you sleep at night.” you turn, greeting one of the more notorious spies in johzenji—though frankly the most _annoying_ —with a tight-lipped smile. “what can i do for you this fine evening?”

“that’s cold, sweetheart. been a while since i saw you in these parties, y’know? what do you say we do a little catching up?” unbidden, a shiver crawls up your spine, and a familiar warmth bubbles at the pit of your stomach. you scowl.

turning back around, you promptly hike up your skirt and resume your trek to the top floor and ignoring his burning stare. “i’m kidding. whether i like it or not, we _are_ allies for tonight, mustard-hair, so do me a favor and let’s get this done quickly.”

* * *

hate it, like it, protest against your daichi about it—it wouldn’t change the fact that karasuno and johzenji had struck up a rare truce for the sake of this mission. but, well, a job’s a job, and you’re still a struggling working class making ends meet. kiyoko would have probably ripped his head off within five seconds, hence, you. though you don’t understand why daichi would think you wouldn’t be inclined to do the same thing.

he picks the lock to the suite with ease, while you stand guard behind him. the door swings open, and you exchange a glance before walking in. as he searches for the hidden door to the study, you follow suit, though as you move past the lavish displays of jewelry, you casually pluck a few pieces—more specifically, the ones you know are the most expensive. looking over his shoulder, he raises an eyebrow, quoting your earlier words.

“ _not drawing attention,_ huh?”

you hiss. “i have no compassion for people who think they can have this much wealth when everyone else suffers beneath them.” 

pointedly, you grab another necklace. your loot is now a veritable handful, as much as you can carry, and without blinking, you shove it down your chest. he yelps, and you roll your eyes. for all the smoothness terushima yuuji displays, he has the maturity of a teenage boy. 

(it’s oddly endearing. maybe. just a little bit.)

“we need to hurry. they’ll notice we’re gone from the party.” he finds the door hidden behind a bookshelf, and you almost scoff at how typical it is. muttering a noise of appreciation, you stand guard again as he picks the lock. once the door swings open, revealing the private study, you exhale. this is where your role begins.

sliding past him, you sit down in front of the computer. the desktop monitor blinks to life, and you begin to type, removing from your hair the flash drive disguised as a hairpin. your hair falls around your face and down your shoulders like a curtain. 

terushima stares at you intently for a few, long seconds. he watches you flick back the locks over your shoulder, exposing your collarbone and the curve of your shoulder. the glow of the computer highlights the determined glint in your eyes under the dark swoop of eyeliner. a familiar ache pricks at his heart. unbidden, memories curl up his mind: ghosts of kisses that taste of honeyed lies, of loyalty and betrayal, of blood-soaked cotton sheets and the sharp sound of gunfire. 

(goddamn, it’s been _years_ , yet he’s never felt this way for anyone else. not even when you hurt him. not even when you tried to kill him.)

tearing his eyes away, he stands guard this time, keeping watch from the door.

* * *

halfway through your task, heavy footsteps begin to echo from the door of the bedroom, and you curse, fingers flying against the keyboard. terushima hisses, “how much longer?”

“give me two minutes,” you mutter, chewing on your lower lip. the defenses are damn good, but you would expect nothing less. “lock the study.” he complies, shutting the door and moving the bookshelf over it.

from the other side, you both hear heavy footsteps. two pairs.

“there’s no one here.” holding your breath, you wait: him tucked beside the door, you standing beside the table, glancing between the door and the screen blinking _’95% complete’_ , willing the damn thing to move faster. 

“i saw two people come up here. a girl and that blond guy.”

you glance again at the screen, watching the bar blink from _98_ to _99%_. the moment it hits _’100% - transfer complete’_ you eject it immediately, slipping it into a tiny pocket in your dress. you give him a minute nod. 

the footsteps thud nearer and nearer the door, and your grip on your gun tightens. terushima’s finger slips into the trigger ring, and the safety clicks off.

“yeah, well it’s not the first time you’ve seen things.” the other, farther voice says. his partner grumbles, the footsteps over the door becoming farther away. “wait.” shuffling. “the madame’s necklaces are missing!” _shit._ ice curls into your veins, and your hand flies to your chest, where the jewels are.

not wasting a second, you swing open the door and the bookshelf, pouncing on the two men. you shoot both of them in the shoulder, your heel meeting the nearer one’s solar plexus not long after. _where’s the other guy,_ you think frantically, slamming the butt of your gun on your current opponent, knocking him unconscious. your hands fly up as you whirl to your right, only to find that terushima had already taken care of him.

for a moment, you stare at each other, the two unconscious bodies sprawled on the floor.

his normally playful features are resolute, the face of years and years in this line of work. of course, what would you expect; if you changed, he was bound to have done the same. yet some things remain constant: the way he always, _always_ , has your back when you’re together, even now, even after what you’ve done. 

he’s always been good at living in the moment, and you know he’s found means to cope—unhealthy as they may be. but for you, old scabs are still picked to reveal fresh blood. years after your betrayal, bitterness clogs into your throat; the distaste that you use as a mask melts away to reveal old vestiges of horrible, gut-wrenching guilt. 

there’s a _reason_ why he got so deep into this line of work. and that reason is standing in front of him now.

_it’s been so long, yet tonight, it feels as though it was only yesterday._

(there’s a tiny spatter of blood on his cheek, and you are overcome with a maddening urge to move closer, to swipe your thumb and remove it from his face.)

your hand twitches by your side. “let’s go.”

* * *

“i have to say,” the voice from your burner crackles to life when you press the button. “that was surprisingly uneventful.”

there’s tactical gear waiting for you behind the mansion, courtesy previous preparations. the operation was oddly smooth, and you’re still waiting for the inevitable catch that always happens in this line of work. it never comes, though. at least, not tonight. 

“you tell me, _moon_. watched the security cameras, did you?” he clicks his tongue in reply.

“had a nice reunion, _amber_?” you growl, hating the smug tone in tsukishima’s voice. 

“mission report: successful. package secured. body count: two.” the last three words leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

“report received. rendezvous as discussed, you know where.” the line crackles then dies, signaling the end of the call. you pocket the phone.

(you never really are going to get used to this, are you? for sure tonight will not be a peaceful one—not that you’ve ever had those the past five years.)

“report submitted.” you keep your back to him. “the arrangement ends here. await instructions from johzenji. that’s all.”

he clenches his fist. “is that all you have to say?”

“that’s _all_.” 

“turn around. look at me. please?” you do. the moonlight bathes his features softly; here, he looks like the young boy he was all those years ago. and perhaps in his eyes you look like the girl he met years ago, a façade of a disguise that wasn’t meant to fall in love.

“the mission is over. i’m no longer your ally.” to the untrained ear, your voice is steady. to you, and to him, it wavers for a fraction of a second.

“you said we’re allies for tonight. the night isn’t over yet,” he, pleads. you falter, and he finds courage to step forward. whether you’re in lavish gowns or black tactical, you’re still amber, still _y/n_ , the one who can trap him with a single look. 

he’s no longer the boy from five years ago. he was young, and reckless, and in love with the regular with the pineapple-print blouse that had been assigned to kill his boss—who he didn’t know was an underground dealer until he found him with _your_ bullet through his heart. 

it’s been years of finding you through elusive mission reports, rumors, and underground skirmishes, and tonight is the first time in five years that you’re not on opposite sides of the trade.

“yuuji,” you whisper, broken, turning away again. “just forget me.”

“i… i can’t.” he whispers lowly, coming up behind you, his chest against your back. he delicately sweeps and gathers your hair, letting it fall over your shoulder before pressing his lips on your nape. 

he’s loved you and loves you still, in all the reckless abandon of his youth and now—battle-hardened as he is, he is still a man driven by his emotions. he’s gotten into trouble for it, for sure, but it’s the only way he can keep his humanity in a business as terribly cruel as this. 

you left him a part of himself to hold onto, like a candied fossil of the past, and this is the only reason he’s still here before you.

“there’s nothing left of the girl you loved. she doesn’t exist.”

 _no,_ he wishes to say, _she’s here._ he sees it in the waver of your expression, the minute shake of your hands. when he takes your shoulders, spinning you to face him, there’s hardly any resistance.

“i don’t believe you.” he leans in, close enough that your noses touch, less than a centimeter away yet also a hundred kilometers too far. “why aren’t you pulling away then?”

you exhale. “i didn’t lie. she doesn’t exist. _i do_.” 

your hand comes up to cover his eyes, and here, you lay the softest kiss on his lips, the first in so _long_. you don’t linger, don’t pull him any closer. if you do, if you remember how he tastes and how he feels, remember the way he looks at you when you pull away, you won’t be able to stop.

“i’ll see you again, yuuji.” 

and then, you’re gone.


End file.
